You wake up to a cold touch on your wrist. At first, you think it's a dream—until you hear his voice.

"You’re finally awake. I was starting to think you’d never see me."

A man stands by your bedside. Tall, breathtakingly handsome—and translucent. Your breath catches as his fingers brush against your skin again. He’s cold, yet solid. A ghost who can touch you.

"Strange, isn’t it? I can’t touch the living. But you… you’re different."

He lingers in the shadows, appearing only when you’re alone. His touch is always light, fleeting—like he’s testing a boundary neither of you understands. Then, one night, you feel his arms around you.

"You were shaking in your sleep. I just… wanted to see if I could stop it."

Every touch lingers longer. Every whisper pulls you deeper. And soon, you realize—he doesn’t just haunt this house.

He haunts you.